Dear Higgins,
Was Black Sabbath correct when it declared “Only Fairies Wear Boots”? I personally do not own a pair of boots and wonder why a fairy would specifically need or desire boots. Any information you can provide would be greatly appreciated; I would like to put this confusion to rest for good.
—Elliott Kay, DuPont (Rock City), WA

So I went to doctor Higgins, see what he could tell me.
He said, “Son, son, you tacked on the ‘Only,’
‘Cause smokin’ and trippin’ is all that you do
Read the title correctly, it’s simply ‘Fairies Wear Boots.’”

Dear Higgins,
I was wondering if you had any recommendations for my next record purchase. I’m looking for something mellow, yet uplifting. Also, I have a problem meeting women. Being the stud/chick magnet that you are, I was wondering if you could hang out with me sometime and help me pick up women.
—Eric, Urbana, IL

Hmm, mellow yet uplifting? I’d try Foghat’s Fool For The City or Cradle Of Filth’s debut, The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh. About meeting women: If I’m reading you correctly, you want me to be your wingman? I can be the Iceman to your Maverick, sure. Next time I’m in Urbana (touring with the Deftones, say), we’ll get together and cruise for chicks at Hot Dog Construction Co. or Rama-Lama Roller Rink.

Dear Higgins,
I just read this article in The Onion about how bomb-sniffing dogs developed a taste for Bit-O-Honeys. Have you developed any tastes while in the MAGNET office? Also, were you invited to the 10th anniversary party for MAGNET? I heard you were the Entertainment Tonight star reporter for the event.
—SJ Olson, St. Cloud, MN

SJ, if I’ve learned anything around the MAGNET office, it’s that there’s no accounting for taste. Take the magazine’s top 60 albums list in issue #60, for instance. That’s more like a list of the top 60 bands that never learned how to mix rap with metal. Rap/metal is where it’s at. That said, I’ve never heard of this band you mention called the Bit-O-Honeys, but since dogs have sniffed ‘em out as “da bomb,” they must be Wes Borland’s new joint or something. I was unable to attend the MAGNET anniversary show. Around the time that Guided By Voices, the Shins and My Morning Jacket were doing a medley of “Tractor Rape Chain,” I figure I was lounging in my study at home, about four fingers into a bottle of Gentleman Jack and halfway through a rawhide toy, but otherwise alone with my thoughts.

Dear Higgins,
Who recorded the song “Take It Off” before Alex Chilton did on High Priest? The song is credited to Eve Darby, but I’ve yet to track down any works by her. Wondering if anyone else has covered it.
—Sam

Excellent question, Sam. Finally, a respite from the sycophantic fan mail and marriage proposals. Sources (namely, Dr. Rökk) tell me that Bo Diddley did a song called “Take It All Off” credited to Eva Darby on his 1972 release Where It All Began. I’d guess this is the same song. Also, the song was covered live by the Grateful Dead with Bo Diddley in 1972.

Yo Dr. Hizzigs,
Does that 3XLP Nick Drake rarities comp Time Has Told Me have everything that the Tanworth-In-Arden 67/68 CD has? Is the CD remastered or something, or is there no difference? Perhaps Time Has Told Me is a sort of cheap knock-off lo-fi combo of Tanworth and Time Of No Reply? (I don’t have the box set, don’t know the posthumous “fourth” album). A penny for your stank-ass little thoughts.
—Nick Dork, Portland, OR

I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. My esteemed colleague, Dr. Rökk, replies:

Hig, you arse-licking son of a bitch. I do have the Fruit Tree official box (that has the Time Of No Reply collection of unreleased stuff) but don’t have Tanworth, although a comparison of tracks listed online pretty much confirms the first four sides of Time Has Told Me are the same as Tanworth, albeit in a different running order. The last two sides of Told Me, however, contain stuff from ‘68-‘74 that I haven’t seen listed elsewhere. There are some other bootlegs out there, too, but that’s about all I know. I can’t listen to Drake anymore, anyway; too many weepy bedsit Belle And Sebastian types over the past few years have ruined him for me.
—Dr. Rökk

Gee, Higgins, looks like you aren’t answering any questions these days. What’s wrong? Too busy sniffing ass? Got worms? Lazy? Laying low after the Phil Spector incident? Afraid the BBC may air a provocative documentary on you to take the heat off of Michael Jackson? Busy crafting the concept album that will define a generation?
—Elliott Kay, DuPont, WA

You know the movie Snow Dogs with Cuba Gooding Jr.? That’s not me; I don’t dig a snowy trek to the office. I’m glad you mentioned Michael Jackson. I am Michael Jackson. I made myself look like a Boston Terrier through extensive plastic surgery. And “doggy” pills. Pills that make you doggy. And I am working on an album tentatively titled Hooked On Higgins, and it’s sort of a medley of popular standards based on the Hooked On Classics format. (The alternate title for the album is Vanilla Scented Candles & Pink Champagne.) Lazy? Like a fox.

Higgins,
Do you think that if Eric Bachmann’s larynx was replaced with your sphincter, he might sound a little bit less like a leftover course of Bryan Adams with a side of Martin Zeller? Would you be more “regular” with this tubular swap?
—Jay L., Northfield, MN

Yes, and then my ass would “bring on the snakes.”
Now get thee to an insane asylum, because you’re crazy. Eric Bachmann is a genius. And you’re crazy.

Higgins, what up, dawg? This is your friend Mario from Tucson. Listen, me and the old lady finally had a burrito of our own, and he’s just turned two. We’re really cat people, but the little homey, well, he is starting to make noises about getting a pup. What would you suggest, you know, for that age group? And no offense, but we don’t want one that’s all mashed up in the face like you—something with a nose, pretty eyes, you know, all the shit in the right places kinda dog. No bitches, either. Peace out,
—Mario, Tucson, AZ

You just admitted that you and your wife are “cat people.” So, in effect, what you’re saying is “I’m a big clown who does balloon tricks and lame pratfalls. Can you direct me to the nearest theatre, where I might get onstage and perform some Shakespeare for the nice people?” I know you’re confused at my leap of logic. Maybe you should get a mistress instead.

Dear Higgins,
When I go out with my mates to get some drinking done at some of the upscale bars in town, I am always tempted to chat up the upscale women drinking cosmopolitans. They generally look way too clean. Makes me like a raccoon to a shiny nickel. So I pimp-roll over with a kamikaze in hand, and the first question asked to me is usually “What are you drinking?”(The other being “Could you go over to the other end of the bar?”) Nine times out of 10, when I say “a kamikaze,” they do that muffled-laugh thing and turn their noses up and away. However, a kamikaze is a cosmopolitan, except without the four-dollar splash of cranberry juice. In order not to get the snub, should I sneak in cranberry juice and ask the bartender for a better presentation glass or should I lose the pimp roll and British shag cut?
—EJ, Philadelphia, PA

I’ve always found it difficult to pick up women at the bar myself. When they sit on those bar stools, it makes it hard to hump their legs. But I have to agree with you about the four-dollar add-on. I can’t be waitin’ around all day for someone to piss in my toilet water.

Dear Higgins,
What up, dawg? Man, when you quoted me as using the phrase “jammin’ on the frim-fram,” I just had to laugh ‘cos it’s supposed to be “frammin’ on the jim-jam,” which is a direct quote from the Wizard of Id. But you wouldn’t know that, would you, you sonofabitch, because you’re too busy reading that corny Marmaduke strip, right? Regardless, please give Gabrielle from Chicago my private number.
—Fred Mills, Asheville, NC

Whatever. Now, do you want me to give the gal from Chicago your home number or your number at the free clinic? I never heard of being quarantined in your own private room for the itchy-scratchies, but maybe you got some new kinda strain.

I think I might be in love with Fred Mills, merely based on his record reviews. 1) Is this normal? 2) What can I do? Thanks!
—Gabrielle, Chicago, IL

Let’s examine the first question for a moment: Do women generally go for men who have to build additions onto their houses in order to store their vinyl albums in a temperature-controlled environment? Is it the size of a dude’s Neil Young bootleg collection that really matters? Do phrases like “jammin’ on the frim-fram,” “boy howdy!” and “toked-up, funkified psych-rawk stew” sound like pillow talk to you? As for the second query, I don’t know what to say, except to tell you what hasn’t worked for me: humping his leg.

During the local TV broadcast of many a Sixers game over the past few years, play-by-play man Marc Zumoff often employs the phrase “making chicken salad.” As in, “Eric Snow, driving the lane, making chicken salad.” What exactly does this mean, Higgins?
—Mark, Philadelphia, PA

Some would venture to guess the Snowman is merely dicing up vittles to sate the healthy appetite of husky power forward Derrick Coleman, but I know better. The complete phrase the gnome-like Zumoff is referring to is “making chicken salad out of chicken shit.” Therefore, we can deduce that Snow has just run into a wall of defenders in the lane and has either knocked down an eight-footer or kicked the ball out to A.I. for a fadeaway.

Greetings Higgins. I was wondering if you’re limber (pliable?) enough to be shoved into a small attache case? I was also wondering what your mood would be when you found out you were traded to a horde of Germans for some microfilm.
—Perry B, Missoula, MT

I think I know what you’re getting at: I had a brief career in the late ‘70s doing spy thrillers for a couple different studios. I think it was 1978 when I did Dr. Nein!: Higgins Vs. The Nazis, and the scene where Gene Hackman smuggles me into Hitler’s bunker in a briefcase was actually performed by a stunt double. So I wouldn’t really know. Do Germans come in “horde” size? I thought that was Mongolians.

I recently saw a picture of a monkey peeing in its mouth. Is this something you do also?
—snugslacks

I recently saw a human stumble out of a bar, throw up in his hands, wipe his hands on the sidewalk, then turn to a female passerby and comment lewdly on her anatomy. Is this something you do also?

I was just wondering if you were of the Cockney persuasion—like the lovable ‘enry ‘iggins? Keep dropping those h’s.
—Bill

Well, Bill, I make a lot of droppings, but ain’t none of ‘em looked or smelled much like the letter h. Oof ... [tugging at collar] Tough crowd.

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